


Better

by bigblueboxat221b



Series: How Does Your Marriage Work? [10]
Category: Come From Away - Sankoff & Hein
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Holding Hands, In Gander, Insomnia, falling asleep together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 13:49:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20243884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: Diane can't sleep. She and Nick wander restlessly together for a while, until eventually she falls asleep again, with Nick's help.





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is not RPF  
While Nick and Diane in the musical are based on real people, this story is set strictly in the fictional representation of them in the musical, ‘Come From Away’. I haven’t done any research into their personal lives, and anything further than what is canon in the musical is completely made up, with the exception of some geographical details. This is not intended to represent the real life couple in any way, their thoughts, attitudes or actions. It’s just my brain saying, ‘what if?’, as it does to every story that resonates with me.

It was late, Diane knew. The lights were only ever dimmed here, but most people were asleep anyway. The room and its two hundred odd residents was as quiet as such a large, occupied space would ever become, and the slow susurrus might have helped her sleep. Now, in the middle of the night, she was restless. Perhaps it was jetlag, perhaps the stress of the situation, but she’d laid awake for hours now, and sleep was no closer.

Carefully, she rolled onto her side, eyes seeking the now familiar shape of Nick on his cot. They’d fallen into the habit of the same routine each night – a walk after dinner, often just slow laps of the baseball fields before returning for a cup of tea as most of the people settled down for the night. They’d take their washbags to their respective bathrooms before meeting back at the cots, a little self-conscious in borrowed sleeping clothes. It was a strange intimacy, but Diane had come to rely on Nick, his diffidence and awkwardly worded conversation endearing him to her.

The first night they’d said goodnight, exchanging shy smiles before closing their eyes. The second, Diane had been far more emotional, and they’d lingered over their tea until much later, talking about nothing in particular until her eyes grew heavy. When they’d made it to their cots, Diane had teared up again for no reason she could figure. Nick had taken her hand, offering a brief squeeze of consolation, but Diane hadn’t let him go, not quite able to meet his eyes as she clutched his fingers. In the end they’d shifted their cots closer, resting joined hands on Nick’s carry-on bag between them. Neither had said anything, but Nick’s quiet presence soothed her nerves that night.

Tonight – the third night – their cots were still close, with barely enough space to walk between. Diane’s heart had thumped when they returned from the washroom, wondering if Nick had considered shifting the cots before she came back. He hadn’t though, and she met his eyes, looking away with uncharacteristic shyness when he smiled. She was like a schoolgirl again when Nick was concerned. They’d settled into their respective cots, Diane’s heart pounding when Nick turned to face her, his hand coming to rest on his bag again, a silent offer. She immediately placed hers in his, the contact running warmth up her arm.

They’d talked quietly about nothing in particular; Nick was more confident in these moments than usual, his speech less awkward. Diane wondered if it was because it was just her, but that felt like a fairly narcissistic suggestion, so she dismissed it. Perhaps it was the dark, or the quiet; they both considered their answers more carefully, making space for thinking before speaking. He’d suggested they find a new walk tomorrow; she’d smiled in reply.

“I’ve converted you, then,” she said, sleep tugging at her consciousness.

“I believe you have,” Nick replied, his smile in his voice.

“A bad influence,” Diane murmured.

“Not entirely,” Nick had said, and Diane hoped she’d smiled before drifting away.

It hadn’t held, and a crying child had woken her soon after, heart pounding as she figured out where she was. Her hand was still resting in Nick’s, his fingers loose in sleep. Much as she tried, Diane couldn’t get back to sleep, and now, all these hours later, she sat up, eyes sandy with fatigue. Her cot creaked in protest and she winced, hoping she hadn’t woken anyone, her eyes darting automatically to Nick.

His fingers curled, though his eyes were still closed. To her astonishment his face creased into a frown, and she saw his hand close more fully on nothing. The frown deepened, and Diane watched as he pulled himself out of what must have been a semi doze.

Because her hand wasn’t there?

“Diane?” he said, voice rough and soft with sleep.

“I’m here,” she said, and her voice must have sounded different somehow because he opened his eyes properly, searching for her. He stilled when he found her, sitting up on her cot. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, of course not,” Nick replied. Diane gave him a look, and he amended, “I don’t mind.”

“I can’t sleep,” she admitted. “I might…I thought I might go and get a cup of tea.”

“Would you like some company?” Nick asked, yawning and sitting up.

“Oh no, it’s fine,” she lied.

It was his turn to give her a look, and her reply was a shamefaced smile.

“Come on,” he said. “Never know what they might have to eat, too.” He swung his legs over the edge of the cot and she did the same, taking his hand when he offered it. He laced his fingers with hers as they walked silently past the sleeping forms, and Diane supressed a shiver. They’d never held hands before outside of the last couple of nights when they were sleeping. It was a nice, long forgotten sensation, having someone to hold onto, and having them holding onto you.

They made it into the cafeteria, which had subtle lighting in honour of the late hour. A few tables were occupied, and as they stepped in, a local detached themselves from a group and came over to see if they needed anything.

“No, we’re fine,” Nick replied on behalf of them both. They moved together towards the tea, the small act of domesticity comforting Diane in a way she didn’t quite understand yet. Nick added a small collection of homemade cookies to his saucer, and they found a table away from the others. Diane sat down without much thought, and when Nick elected to sit beside her, she started to wonder. The small moments she was noticing – holding hands, his eyes on her more often, and now choosing to sit beside her instead of opposite – they were as much Nick’s choice as hers. Was it possible she wasn’t the only one tentatively reaching for something?

Musing on it, Diane raised her cup to her lips.

“Better?” Nick asked when she’d taken a sip of her tea.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied. The warmth of the cup was almost too much, but she bore it gladly. The gymnasium wasn’t cold, exactly, but it lacked the intense warmth she knew from home. She missed it, she realised, that kind of heat that permeated every part of you. Texas weather wasn’t the same as Newfoundland, no matter which way you looked at it.

“Was there something keeping you awake?” Nick asked.

It was probably the most direct question he’d ever asked, and she must have looked surprised when she answered, “I don’t think so.”

“I just thought…if I could help in any way…” he explained, the unfinished sentence much more familiar from his mouth.

Diane shrugged, then sighed. “I don’t know. Sometimes I forget why we’re here. What’s happening out there. And then I see the Muslim man from our flight, and he looks as frightened as the rest of us. And there’s that woman, her son’s a firefighter in New York. They still can’t account for him. And that young man, he works in Washington, and his friends work at the Pentagon.” She shook her head, her cup shaking as she set it down, pressing her hands into her lap. “I don’t remember so much when there’s something to do.”

“Nights are more difficult,” Nick agreed quietly.

They sat in silence for a while, Nick offering his cookies. Diane took one, the sugar bursting on her tongue as she bit into it. When their cups were empty, Diane contemplated making another. She swirled the dregs, idly wondering if there would be anything worth reading in her tealeaves, should she have any.

Maybe something about Nick.

“Another?” Nick asked, indicating her cup.

“No,” Diane said, with a quick smile. “Thank you.”

He nodded, folding his hands in his lap. Diane toyed with the crumbs on her saucer, wondering what to do. She still felt restless, but it seemed ridiculous to suggest a walk in the middle of the night.

“We could go for a walk, if you like,” Nick said. “I’m sure there’s lighting outside somewhere.” He shrugged. “Even up and down the street.”

Diane looked at him, wondering if he was poking gentle fun at her, but he seemed serious. “Okay,” she said, “but I don’t know if I have a coat that would be warm enough. How cold is it outside?”

“Give me a minute,” he replied. She watched him get up and speak for a minute with the local woman who had greeted them when they came in. When he returned he said, “There’s a table with jackets in the foyer. She said we can take whatever fits.”

“Okay,” Diane said without thinking too much. They returned their crockery to the bussing station and Nick waved to the local woman, who returned his greeting. They found the table in the foyer; it was easy enough to find jackets to fit, and Diane picked up a scarf, too.

When they were rugged up, Diane braced herself against the expected cold as they walked outside, but the air lacked the bite she expected.

“It’s not as cold as I thought,” she said.

“Should we follow the streetlights?” Nick asked.

Looking around, little else was lit, so Diane nodded. The air wasn’t cold initially, but Diane could feel it in her fingers. They were walking together, but there was enough distance she’d have to make a definite move closer to pick up his hand, and she wasn’t sure if that was something they did now, so instead she pulled her hands inside her sleeves.

“Are you cold?” Nick asked, breaking the silence.

“My hands,” she said apologetically. “The rest of me is fine.”

Nick nodded, and Diane wondered what he was thinking. Before she could consider it, he slowed, and she matched his pace until they were standing near a corner on a patch between two streetlights. He reached out for her hands and she allowed them to pop out of the ends of her sleeves and settled in his upturned palms. Without breaking their gaze, he brought her hands together, surrounding them with his.

“This might help,” he said quietly.

Breath caught in her throat, Diane nodded, resisting the urge to swallow. It was as though he was more confident when it was just the two of them, she thought to herself again. Moments when he was caring for her, and the bumbling Englishman vanished. He was still quiet and careful with his actions and words, but they were more assured.

They stood there for what felt like a long while, her hands encased in his, warmth slowly seeping back into her fingers. They didn’t speak; it felt more intimate than it should, given their public location and the heavy coats they both wore. It was his patience, Diane decided, and the calm way his eyes lingered on her face as they roamed her features. As though he was trying to memorise it.

But that was silly.

Finally, when the tension seemed like it couldn’t possibly pull any tighter, Nick smiled gently and let her hands go.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” Diane whispered. “Thank you.”

Nick took one hand in his, and they turned to continue walking, Diane pulling her hand other into her sleeve again. The town was quiet, and Diane wondered what the time actually was. Not that it really mattered; they’d had no word about when they might leave, and there was nothing they had to do all that urgently. After a while wandering, they found themselves back at the Academy. It was still dark; no sign of dawn, so it must still be very late. Or early, depending on your point of view.

“What would you like to do?” Nick asked quietly.

_Stay here with you, without worrying about when we’ll have to leave._ She blinked, her immediate reaction taking her by surprise.

“I don’t know,” Diane replied, pushing the instinct away. She frowned a little as she tried to find some order in the mess that was her brain. “I think…I’d like to go back inside.”

She felt tired all of a sudden, in a deeply sad way that hadn’t hit her until now. Nick came without comment, and they shed their coats in the foyer. Diane headed back into the cafeteria, making another cup of tea more for something to do than out of any actual desire for it.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Nick said.

“Of course,” Diane replied. She found herself a seat at one of the couches by the far wall. There was almost nobody here now, except a local woman – the same as earlier, she thought – knitting in a corner. She gave Diane a kind smile when she looked over, and Diane returned it, as much to stop her getting up to check on them as for anything else. When she sat, though, the small kindness hit her. The woman was staying up all night in case a stranger needed someone.

Tiredness and emotion overwhelmed her again, and Diane pushed her tea away, folding her arms on the side of the couch to cradle her head instead. Her eyelids were impossibly heavy, and suddenly sleep seemed like an incredibly attractive option. She could sleep, ignore the thoughts rolling around each other in her head, the vague sense of something unbearably sad that had just come over her. She couldn’t identify the source of her grief quite yet, but it was already exhausting, and she didn’t want to think about it. The tears welled and she supposed they rolled down her face, but she didn’t care.

She just wanted to sleep.

It dragged her down quickly, the room receding within moments. She had a vague awareness of the awkward angle of her neck, and she was frustrated it didn’t let her sink away entirely. The background noise pulsed in her head, tethering her to reality with an irritating tenacity.

She felt someone settle on the sofa beside her, the proximity bringing her back closer to consciousness. A familiar voice asked tentatively, “Diane?”

It was Nick.

For some reason his gentle voice made her draw a long a shaky breath. Before she could tell if she was going to cry again, or be able to hold it together, Nick’s hand landed on her shoulder blade, a careful, comforting weight, and that was what tipped her over the edge. Another breath, long and shaky, feeling Nick’s hand rise and fall with her ribs, and Diane realised what had triggered her sudden sadness.

It was Nick. Well, not his presence, but the realisation that his absence would soon be a reality. They couldn’t stay here forever, and when reality pulled them back in again, she would return to Texas and he to England. She fought to steady her breathing, to quell the tears still running down her face, but it was a losing battle. Nick had been a constant in this uncertainty, and she knew she’d miss him terribly when it was over. Worse, she had no idea if he felt the same – if the romantic feelings she was harbouring would be returned. He was kind to her, certainly, and chivalrous in a charming way, but she needed something concrete. Especially when things would get complicated as soon as they left Gander.

As she thought, working through this realisation, Nick sat beside her, his hand still resting heavy and reassuring on her back. He wasn’t asking for anything, or encouraging her to speak; just knowing he was there helped calm her, and it wasn’t until she was almost asleep she realised how much he had helped.

She wished she could tell him.

Time passed, probably; she wasn’t quite sure how much.

Vaguely uncomfortable, Diane shifted. Something moved with her, sliding carefully away. She whimpered, wanting it back…and it returned. She sighed contentedly.

More time, drifting past without measure until she became more aware again.

The small patch of deep pressure had spread; there was a larger weight on her back, and she was still uncomfortable. Squirming, Diane moved, feeling the weight move too, sleepily shifting until it sighed, something coming to rest across her ribs.

It was better. Warm and comforting. Familiar, moving slowly as a body in sleep, breathing deeply with her.

Better.

“Good morning,” a voice sounded near her, and Diane started awake, blinking against the bright light. A face was peering down at her, an amused grin bathing her in warmth. It was vaguely familiar, though Diane couldn’t place it. Probably one of the locals who’d been helping out, she thought.

“Good morning,” Diane replied, wincing as she tried to move. Something was weighing her down, and she glanced down her body to see what it was.

‘It’ was Nick. Evidently they’d both fallen asleep, shifting until his head was resting on her shoulder blade, one arm resting across her ribs, his knees tucked behind hers on the couch. Diane froze, trying to remember what had happened last night. They’d held hands, she remembered – a lot – and there had been a walk in the middle of the night. He’d gone somewhere, and she’d been tired and so sad…

_Oh._

He’d comforted her as she’d cried on this very couch, she realised. That must have been when she fell asleep, and he too; from her quick glance outside, it was well daytime. The room was half full of people, some of them smiling as they glanced over at the couple sleeping on the couch together.

Diane felt her face flame.

“Just wanted to be sure you didn’t need anything,” the woman said, and Diane finally recognised her as the local who’d been knitting in the middle of the night.

“No, thank you,” Diane said in a half-whisper, not wanting to wake Nick if she didn’t have to. She glanced over at him, her heart tugging hard at his face resting against her sleeping shirt.

“He’s a patient one,” the woman said. She patted Diane’s hand. “Sat for hours while you slept, until he fell asleep himself. You’re a lucky girl.”

“Thank you,” Diane said again. It was easier than trying to explain, and given the situation, she wouldn’t blame the woman for not believing her. She wasn’t sure she believed it herself.

Well, they couldn’t stay here all day. Carefully, as though she might actually be able to extract herself without waking Nick, Diane eased herself into a more upright position. To her astonishment, his arm tightened around her, incoherent protests as his body slipped down while hers moved away. She slipped one hand under his head to support it, and finally, she was sitting up.

Although…she sat with Nick’s head cradled on her knees, one hand still lying under his temple. He stirred, and her heart thumped hard and fast as she realised he was waking. Much as she wanted to look away, she couldn’t; he blinked, his eyes opening slowly, the frown growing as he registered the unusual situation. It was like slow motion as he rolled, his eyes searching for something before settling on hers.

They really were the most remarkable blue, she thought. She could actually feel him relax as he recognised her, and it empowered her to offer him a careful smile.

“Good morning,” she said. Her hand was still cupping the side of his face; she daren’t move it, in case it brought attention to it.

And it was nice.

“Good morning,” he replied.

She was sure he would have moved, but he didn’t, instead simply looking up at her. Patient, that woman had called him, and he was.

“You stayed with me,” she said quietly.

“I fell asleep,” he said.

Diane hesitated. She’d started this conversation, and she just couldn’t stop it taking its course. “The local woman who was here, she woke me. She said you sat here for…a long time. Before you fell asleep.”

Nick looked up at her for a stretched out moment before saying, “I suppose I did.”

Diane nodded. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t know how to help,” he told her.

“You did, though,” she said.

“How?” he asked.

“You were here,” she said.

He nodded, his eyes still never leaving her face. “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked. “We can’t have had that much sleep.”

Diane considered his question. Before this conversation – without this whole situation – she would have been…still sad, she thought. At last night’s realisation. But Nick staying here – before he fell asleep and after, and again this morning to even have this conversation – had spun a thread of hope in her. It was fragile, and she was frightened to break it, but if she didn’t test it, it would break anyway when Nick returned to England.

“I feel…better,” she said, smiling down at him.

His return smile was so sincere and warm that it felt perfectly natural to duck her head, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth. He didn’t respond immediately, but Diane hoped she’d just surprised him. Her heart was pounding as she pulled back, searching for his reaction.

He lay still for a long moment, and Diane’s heart thudded the seconds away until Nick turned, rolling until he could sit up beside her. His eyes met hers, and Diane felt her breath catch at the look of hopeful disbelief in his eyes. She smiled a little, encouraging him until his mouth turned up to match. The world condensed, a glorious bubble around them as they recognised what had finally blossomed between them.

Another long moment, this one delicious with anticipation. She could see happiness in his face, his eyes lighting with warmth as they drifted lower to settle on her mouth. Diane’s heart was pumping steady and fast in her ears as they leaned into each other. She had already kissed Nick, but this time he was kissing her too, and her hand was curling around the back of his neck, and he was pulling her closer. Diane’s blood sang his name as it surged through her, and she found herself smiling, unintentionally breaking their kiss.

“Better?” he asked, and his breathlessness made her smile even harder.

“Better,” she agreed.


End file.
